A Day off of Normal
by QueensOfFluff
Summary: This is an angsty story that has triggers for cutting, suicide, and probably everything you could think of. Enjoy! By Animal (BlendableLion) and Liz (Jackson The Saxophone) :3 (included Phan, amazingphil, danisnotonfire)
1. Dan

**Dan's POV**

I continued to stare at the ceiling, hiding from my mother. It was normal for me to do that, and my room was usually where you could find me if I'm inside my house. If not I'm down the street at the park, probably somewhere up high, where I feel safer. I don't know why, but I just love to be off the ground, my feet dangling, where I can see everything that happens to the people below.

_You know why you love it, because you can just fall and be done with it all. _

_No, bad idea, that's not it. _

Looking at the clock, I could see that it was five-thirty already. I only had a half hour until my mum would get off of work, and about five minutes between the time that she would leave the hospital and get to our house. She's a Nurse Practitioner, which is pretty much between being a doctor and being a nurse. She usually came home late, though I didn't count on it, as I had learned not to do when I was younger. It's not that I would get hit if I didn't avoid her, or anything like that, it's just that I rather dislike a lot of the comments she decides to make. I usually just avoid her for as long as possible—sometimes for weeks at a time—and when I do see her I just try not to heed any of what she says. It does get to me, however, since when it all started I was already at a low mental stability, and none of her remarks helped. That, however, is a story for another time, since I have to get out of here soon.

Before I know it, my zoning out has led it to be six-sixteen, and I hear the familiar crunch of gravel on our driveway.

_Shit._

I don't have anywhere to go, since she'll know that I'm home (she always does, I don't even know how anymore, and I've given up on caring about it). Within seconds I heard the keys turn to the front door, and I knew that this would be one of the days that I couldn't run away. However, I tried to hide from her anyways, hoping that I could be just overlooked or something.

_You know, if you followed through with my plan, we could get out of this fast and easy! Not have to deal with any of this. _

_No, it's not a good idea, I have to live, and I have so much I can live for! _

"Daniel, I know that you're home. The dinner is Chinese take-out—since you're not quite the cook that Adrian is." Already, she was comparing me to my older brother, Adrian. Already, she was complaining that I wasn't as good of a son as my brother. I tried to ignore it, but I still felt the pain like a slap in the face. I didn't express it, though; I was used to hiding how much what she says hurts.

"Yeah, okay. I'll be down in a bit." _You're lying; you'll be down when she's gone. _

_I know. _

"Whatever." _She doesn't care. She doesn't care about you, and doesn't want to see you. The only thing she wants to see is you crash and burn. _

_I know. _

I sat there, listening in on the argument inside of my own head. Both voices were my own, yet I knew that they were distinctly different. I've always had them, with their small differences, but ever since the incident with my brother, they've been definitely different. There's the happy side and the sad side, to put it simply. When the incident first happened, the happy side was just as loud as the sad side, but over time the happy side has lost its strength, and it has become just a vulnerable little whisper, whilst the sad side yells and screams whatever it thinks. None of what it thinks is helping me, though.

_You could die. You know you can, it's easier. Just do it. Death. Jump off the bridge. Break a shard of glass and bleed out. Drown yourself in the bath. Anything. Just find a way to die. _

_No. I have to live. I have to keep going, since it will get better. That's just a permanent solution to temporary problem. _

_Quoting the gatherings now, are you? The ones that you're forced into at school against suicide? What about how you absolutely detest? So you're going to stoop so low as to pick sides with the people you hate? This is the __**real world**__. You can't do that here, it's one side or the other. There's no in-between, like you wish. If you say that you're against them, you're against. Don't think you could let these sorts of things just pass by me. _

_But… life. Something good could happen. _

_With your luck? No. You know that you're just a mistake of this planet. Don't try to convince yourself something good could come out of it. You've known how much goes wrong just for you since Adrian died! Ever since you let him die, I should say. The world is trying to get you back. It should've been you, the worthless one!_

I flipped over. I hated it. I knew that it was my own mine, yet I didn't do this to myself—not on purpose. I hated it. I absolutely _loathed_ it. I hated my own mind. And I knew that there was no way I could get out of it and survive.

I had to find a way to get out of this, without having it all end, but I just don't know how.


	2. Phil

"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT," I heard my dad yell at me "YOU'RE NOTHING BUT SCUM!"

Keeping my head down, I slowly headed to the small room where I basically lived. Just a bed and a few old pieces of furniture and nothing else, no forms of entertainment besides the old radio next to my bed.

I flopped onto my bed, the broken sprigs in it creaked and groaned beneath my weight. In the other room I heard my dad muttering loudly about how I was such a burden and other horrible things all leading back to me.

That man hated me with every stinking cell in his body, the only reason he kept me was for the small income of money the state sent us every month, and although he was supposed to use it on me, he normally blew it on pot, drugs or cheap beer. Only when my clothes were quite literally handing in tatters would he buy me new ones.

My mother died when I was very young. Although I was only two, I vaguely remember yelling and a tinkle of glass. The yelling had stopped altogether and I remember a bunch of red. I try to expel the memory from my mind, and most of the time I succeed, but the red will always remain.

About 15 minutes late I hear my dad's snores and the sharp sent of a very strong beer. I tiptoe to the bathroom and take a quick shower, my teeth chattering the whole time due to the lack of hot water. I dry my hair, tug on a clean shirt and grab my schoolbag. Dad begins to toss and turn in his sleep, what he's dreaming about I could only guess.

Before I even realize what's happening I'm at school, first, second and third period going by in a blur. Sit down, do your work, next class, repeat. That's basically how I get through the day. I'm finally in my favorite class, which is art. I listen to my teacher's voice droning on, and on and on. He's telling us about how we have to do a mural on the school's wall. _It's not going to help it, _I think to myself _The school's the ugliest in the state, and it has the lowest ratings._

I'm brainstorming ideas to paint on the wall when I hear the art teacher say something about having a partner I snap my head up and stare him in the eyes. He takes out a long sheet of paper and reads the names off for teams. I hear my name and then a student called Daniel Howell's name.

I look around the room to see who this mysterious Dan Howell is, and I am rewarded to find he's not a complete idiot. I've worked with him on a few assignments in my other classes, seeing as no one wanted to work with either of us, but I never bothered to find out his name. He gives a small wave and I give him a small smile back. he picks up his belongings and plops into an empty chair next to me, carelessly scattering his things along the table.

"So..." he says, looking at me with his chocolate brown eyes "Do you have any ideas?"

"Um, yeah, actually, I do," I say, pulling out a sheet of blank paper. "Not really anything specific, I just plan to paint whatever comes to mind."

"Well, that sounds like a good idea," he replies pulling out his own sheet of paper "Just let your mind go nuts" He doodles a llama on the paper. "That's really nice," I say, pointing at his doodle "Even if it's just a quick sketch."

"You can look at my sketchbook," he says, handing me a dark green book overflowing with papers "If I can look at yours."

I nod my head, and hand him my navy blue sketchpad. I open his book and inspect the wonderful drawings, doodles and paintings in his book. There's a few photographs of the same three people; there's a woman with reddish-brown hair and deep blue eyes, Dan and a boy who looks just like him who I assume is his brother. he's drawn the boy as well, over and over again, sometimes he's outside, sometimes inside, his nose tucked away into a book.

"Wow, this is really good work, Dan, you could get into any art school you wanted to!"

"You could too, you're an incredible artist."

Dan and I continue to chat and doodle throughout the class period. We decided to hang out after the school day was over, seeing as neither of us wanted to go home, although we both wouldn't tell the other the reason. I decided to keep my dad's physical and mental abuse a secret for now.

Although Dan seemed happy and was laughing and actually talking to someone, which I'd never seen him do before, I felt like he was far away from me, like he was here, talking to me, but his mind was far away, his thoughts tormented by something. His eyes didn't have a lively sparkle to them, some of his grins seemed forced. I wanted to know what he was feeling, but I decided not to push my luck.

I feel really close to him.

I want him to be happy.

Do I have a crush on Dan Howell? No, yes, maybe... I don't know. I'm not sure what to think anymore.


	3. Dan (2)

I had an awesome time during art today. I was working with Phil, who I work with all the time, but this time I actually talked to him. We talked about art, and Pokémon, and brainstormed for our section of the mural. We decided on an animated collage of a lot of characters from shows and things like that, just to put it out there. Whatever we want to put out there will be on there, really. We're pretty much the only people who aren't forced into this class, so we don't even really have to try for it to be above and beyond the rest of the classes' work.

I noticed something about his sketch book, though, and saw that there was one picture over and over again, yet always different. It was rather abstract in a lot of cases, but others were very vivid and in great detail. It was of glass shattering, a woman, and a lot of red. I couldn't quite explain what it was of, but it had a darker side to it. That wasn't all that was in the sketch book, though, there was also a lot characters from the television, like characters from _Adventure Time_ and _Buffy: the Vampire Slayer_, and even _True Blood_. I didn't find any paintings or drawings of his family at all, which led me to wonder _why, _but I decided not to intrude on his business. I didn't really want to make things awkward between us because we were still just getting to know each other.

It was weird talking to Phil, though. Not in the _'I-think-he's-weird'_ kind of way, but in the '_I'm-not-used-to-this'_ kind of way. It was weird to know someone and trust them, even though we barely know each other. I just felt some sort of connection to him that I couldn't explain; something that I hadn't felt since I had been with my brother. And that scared me a bit, since the last time I loved someone like that they ended up dead.

_You know you'll just attract bad luck to him. Why would you even bother? _

_This could be the chance of happiness that I've been waiting for. It can't turn out that badly!_

There it is again. It is always there to contradict me, and put me straight back down when I feel elated. The sad voice, to tell me how badly things are going, and make sure I realise how much of a failure I am. It went away for a while, but it didn't take long for it to return. I'm never really free of it.

We hung out after school, which I was really happy about, since I didn't want to go back to my mum. I was actually having a rather good time, though I noticed that Phil tended to be off in his own world just a little bit. He was rather adorable, though, the way he would chew on his lip when he was thinking on how he would phrase his words, and his tongue would stick out when he laughed (though, he covered it up with his hand out of habit). How gentle his fingers were when they would hold his pencil and trace out his words or drawings, or when he would fix his hair while his agile fingertips would just barely touch his skin. He was wonderful.

_You know that everything you touch dies. Even look at every pet you've ever had in history. So why would you even try to love him?_

_I can try. _

That's the line that I always return to. I can try. It's the one that is my life line; even when I'm at my lowest I saw it. _I can try. _

_You'll be a failure at art. _

_I can try. _

_Don't even think about trying music, you'll make our ears pop. _

_I can try. _

_Don't think about trying to continue on living. _

_I can try. _

That's the pattern, always. It's getting boring and annoying, but I can't stop it. I can never stop it.

"Hey Dan, is there anything wrong?" Phil asked. I must've been zoning out, since I he pointed out that I wasn't responding. I forced a smile, and I nodded. It was a lie, but just a little white lie.

_Lying already. Amazing way to start out a friendship. And forcing a smile. You're disgusting, you know that? You should at least be yourself around your new friends. _

_I don't want to force my problems onto him! I also don't want him to think I'm crazy!_

_You are. _

"Okay, so what's your favourite book? If you like to read, that is. I don't tend to go out much, so I read a lot." He said, smiling. I thought for a second, and I smiled, looking him in the eyes. I nearly got lost in their blue wonders, but I had to remind myself to answer.

"I like John Green; _The Fault in Our Stars_ is one of my favourites." I replied, forcing myself to pull away from his eyes. He nodded, smiling and barely noticing how much I was admiring him. That was a good thing, I guess, since I didn't want him to think I was weird.

"That is so awesome; I love John Green! Though, I also like the Harry Potter series quite a bit, and there's this one book, I can't quite remember the name, but I liked it a lot, too!" He smiled brightly, and I returned it, though not as bright.

There was something off about him, though. I don't know how to explain it, but there was just something that made me think that he wasn't as happy as he could be—though, he seemed like a very content person in general. I don't know how to place it, though.

I was probably imagining things, though. It's not like he was sobbing his eyes out or trying to let his life bleed out of him because of something that happened. He was much too happy of a person for any of that shit.

Sitting there next to Phil, the hours fell through our fingers like seconds, and we easily designed our section of the mural through doodles and finished all of our homework—and for the first time in history, I actually did homework. It was amazing how he influenced me to do that. _He _was amazing.

"Excuse me, boys. I know that you're having a nice time and all, but I need to be getting home now. It's time for me to close up!" The librarian said, in her small and gentle voice. I smiled at her slightly, nodding, and Phil and I packed up. We were then standing outside of the library, talking ready to depart ways.

"Are you free tomorrow, after school again?" He asked, looking at me questioningly. I smiled and nodded. He laughed a bit, patting my head. I blushed at he did so, smiling as well. "You don't talk much, do you?" He said, and I shrugged.

"In my family we've never really talked much, and I don't really have many friends." I said. It was the partial truth, but it would due.

"How come your family doesn't talk much?" He asked, the quickly added, "If you don't mind me asking."

"It's no problem." I chuckled a bit at how kind he was being, as I proceeded to tell him. "My mum works at the hospital, and practically lives there most of the time, and I used to talk to my brother loads, but… let's just say that I can't do that anymore." I said, shrugging. Without warning, he gave me a huge hug, wrapping his arms around me and engulfing me in complete warmth. It was really different from any of the other hugs that I'd ever received, most of them being stiff, awkward, and forced. No, I'd had some like this one, somewhere—

My brother, whenever our mother missed something that I was excited about. The last one was when I was in a play, and I had the main lead. I was hoping that she would be there, and for once actually show up for something of mine. She had promised me that she would show up, but yet I looked through the audience for the entire show, and she never showed. I went through the show, and at the end my brother was there to take me home. When I got home we both stayed up to see when she would come home, and after about two hours she finally came home. It was eleven in at night, and she said that someone had to get something taken out of their body. I asked her why someone else couldn't have helped the doctor do it, but she just sighed and said that there aren't enough people for that, and she sent me to my room. I could hear my brother argue my case, and I heard her say that she tried, but it wasn't high up enough on her priority list. I tried as hard as I could not to cry. Then my brother came up stairs and saw me at the top, with red eyes, holding back sobs. Then he hugged me as tightly and he could and promised that he would go to all of my shows, whether it be art of acting, told me that he loved me. I'm not sure if it's one of my better memories of my worse ones.

"Hey Dan, what's up? You look as if you've seen a ghost. Were you uncomfortable with me hug? If so, I'm really sorry" Phil said worriedly, looking at me.

I shook my head, laughing a bit. "I just realised something really weird."

"What was it?"

"Oh, just that you can't spell slaughter without laughter." I said, smiling sheepishly. He laughed a short but true laugh, and I responded with it, then we both burst out into giggles, having to clasp onto one-another's shoulder so we don't fall over from lack of oxygen.

"Well, I have to go home at some point, so I should probably get back to my house now." I said, smiling. I awkwardly hugged Phil goodbye, and went to the park, staying there for a few more hours before I finally decided to sneak into my room and go to sleep. I was really excited for the next day, so I could see Phil.

My first friend in years.


	4. Filup(2)

I half walk-half skip down the street, happier then I 've been in a very long time. For once, I didn't regret the next day, I finally had something to look forward to in my life. I was really exited about the mural and seeing Dan tomorrow, in art and other classes I didn't even realize I had with him.

I finally reach my house and when I do, the light feeling in my heart splashes into my stomach. My dad's clunky old truck is already in the driveway and I could hear several slurred voices from inside.

I tentatively pull back the door to see my dad and a woman lying on the couch. I feel my cheeks burn and something that felt like anger bubble inside of me. Closing the door, I go around to the back of the house and crawl in my bedroom window, thank god I always leave it unlocked for situations like this, and plop down on my bed, letting my backpack tumble to the floor, then I glance at the radio next to my bed to check the time. Oh crap, I was missing Buffy.

I can't believe that Dad even keeps me, he treats me like absolutely nothing, always calling me names or hitting me.

I lean back on my bed, the creaky springs in the mattress moaning with every movement. I stare at the ugly blank walls of my room. I feel my hands creep under my pillow to the Swiss-army knife I kept hidden underneath. I popped out the blade and pressed my fingertip to the sharpened tip of it, a tiny bead of red blood blossoming out.

I was just about to drag the blade across my wrist like I've done so many times before, and then I think of Dan. Dan wouldn't want this, would he? I feel like he actually cares about me, and one person is enough to help, right?

I throw the set of knives across my room and let them clatter to the floor, repulsed at myself about what I was about to do, then grab my sketchbook from my backpack and tear out a couple dozen sheets of paper from today's art class. Dan and I had doodled all over the once blank sheets, filling them with references and over-exaggerated sketches of each other. I fumble in the bedside cabinet for a roll of tape and soon all desire to hurt myself was gone.

Happy memories from today swim in my mind as I look at the crude doodles that now adorn my walls. A drawing of Buffy slapping Edward Cullen across the face with her breasts (Dan drew that), a quick sketch of Dan and I in the Land of Ooo, complete with Finn-Hats and swords.

Seconds turn to minutes, and minutes turn to hours. I hear my dad and the mystery woman leave, both of them a bit more than drunk. I can finally leave my room and watch television, maybe find a bite to eat.

As I exit my room, the smell of beer and the faint scent of weed are floating around in the living room, so I open a few windows to clear my head. Soon, a nice breeze enters the room and the sounds of my radio fill the small house. I hum along to songs by Muse and shake my hips to the beat.

Thirty minutes later I'm munching away at a slightly burned grilled cheese sandwich and am watching Adventure Time. Dad still hasn't returned from wherever he's at, and I get the strange impulse to call him.

But I don't, and that's my mistake.

Hours later, a sweaty and alcohol soaked Dad enters through the door. I fall from my spot on the sofa and scramble to my feet, terrified by the fury that is radiating off of my father. "WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU CALL?" He slaps me sharply across my face "I FUCKING GOT PULLED OVER BY THE COPS AND THEY TOOK MY FUCKING CAR YOU LOUSY LITTLE SHIT!"

I open and close my mouth, stupidly, trying to think of something to say. When I don't respond quick enough, I receive a punch to my left eye. "Then why didn't you call a taxi or something, take the bus?" I say, clasping my hand to my eyes and ducking away from my dad. He pins me down and punches my face, so hard that I see stars. "BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING DRUNK AND THEY DON'T FUCKING TAKE DRUNK PEOPLE, STUPID!" He slurs, kicking my body with every word. I feel my skin being ripped open with every movement, blood trickling down my face, blinding my vision and filling my mouth.

Suddenly he stops and rolls me over onto my stomach with his foot. "Clean all of this blood up," he says dangerously low "And don't go tellin' anyone about this, or it'll be ten times worse next time..."


	5. Danyul (3)

I smiled to myself a bit on my way home—I had a friend. Like, not a normal, usual friendship, but I had a friend that I could talk to, just for the sake of talking. The best part was, since we barely knew each other, our friendship could do nothing but get stronger! It was amazing!

_You know that you will mess this up big-time really soon. _

I completely ignored the little voice in my head, wandering around on the street. It was just another mundane little driveway, just like in every street in this area. I could probably walk into any of these houses and navigate it—I could use their washing machine, their shower, their dishwasher, and everything just like it was my own home. It got boring extremely easily, but I've always found ways to entertain myself with my own mind, or you could hand me a pencil and paper and I would be off into my own little world full of anything I wanted. It was always easier than having to go out to the kids next door and have to talk to them and play with them, and endure their bullying.

I looked at my house—the one that managed to be even more plain than the rest—and I snuck into the garage. I saw my mother's car, and I winced at the fact that she was home. I must've been out a lot later than I thought. I guess that I wouldn't be going inside for a while, so I grabbed my skate board and I rode down the hill, to the park.

When I got there, I saw a few kids still hanging around in the fleeting daylight, but I knew that they would be gone soon. So, I chose a tree that I thought would fit me in it comfortable (the one that I usually tend to choose) and I set to work climbing it. Beforehand I shoved my skateboard into my bag and slung it over my shoulder, so neither of them got in the way. I found it quite easy to find my way through the branches, swaying and moving my weight to balance and move up closer and closer to the top. I found the perfect place, where the branch met the tree, and I sat there, taking off my backpack and hanging it on one of the near-by branches. I smiled slightly, remembering when my brother first showed me how to actually climb trees, and I reached into my backpack. I pulled out my sketch book, trying to keep the memory of my brother in my mind as I set to work on a portrait of him, hoping to capture his complete personality in the picture. I made sure to put the creative spark into his eyes, and I tried to get as much detail as I could in the drawing without losing the vibe of it. When I was done I looked at the drawing, criticizing it and fixing all of the details until it was and nice as I could, and I used my coloured pencils to colour it in. All in all I guess it was okay.

_It doesn't even breech adequate. _

_It's okay._

I decided to go back home—the sun has long ago slipped under the horizon, and the stars were casting their light above me. I grabbed my backpack before I easily slid down to the ground, and I threw my skateboard to the ground. It was a short ride home, and I snuck in the back door—my mother would be asleep by now, and it wouldn't be easy to wake her up, thank god. I've had enough of her to last a lifetime, and I would pass on more of her any day.

I went up to my room, and got ready for my dreamless sleep, excited about seeing Phil the next day.

Throughout first period I was sitting there, half-asleep, just waiting for time to pass—Phil was in my second period class, my third class, fourth (which is art) and seventh period. Then I'll hang out with him after school, and that'll be fun.

_He's probably repulsed by you. _

_He might even like me. _

"Okay, your homework is pages eight and fourteen in the book!" The teacher said. What class was this again? Probably English or Maths. Oh well, I don't care about the homework in the slightest, so I just ignored the teacher on that note.

I quickly packed up my papers and pencil as quickly as I could, but once I was packed and the bell rung, I was nearly frozen.

_You know it. He hates you. He loathes every aspect of you. And he has every right to—just look at yourself. As if he would ever want to be friends with the likes of you!_

_Hurry up and go! He'll be waiting! You know that you can't wait to go and see him, and he'll be excited, too! Think about it—you'll have a friend!_

I wander over to the next class, and I poke my head it. It isn't really empty in the class room, but I wouldn't say it was full. Phil was already there, sitting at a spot in the back. I smiled at him shyly when he turned to look at me.

"Hey, Dan. How are you?" He said, shyly. He had a green sweatshirt on, and he had a bit of a shyness about his that wasn't really there yesterday. I chose to ignore it.

"I'm doing fine, you?" I replied, shrugging. How did he manage to keep his jacket on? I was in a light tee-shirt, and I was burning up!

"Meh, I'm okay." He replied. He looked really tired, but I, yet again, ignored it.

_He could be dying, and you just ignore it, you fucking idiot!_

_I hope he's okay, but I don't want to go too far into his life with his consent. _

"How the heck are you not burning up in that jacket?" I asked him, and he shrugged. There was definitely something not right about him. "Hey, are you sure you're okay? You seem a bit down."

"Yeah, I'm fine; I'm just a bit tire is all." He replied. I shrugged and sat down next to him, getting out a piece of paper to doodle on during the class period, but it was barely used. Phil and I talked enough during the class period that I didn't even get bored.


	6. Precious Wittle Snowflake

Dan and I chatter endlessly throughout third and fourth period, some of the students telling us to shut up or the teachers giving us disproving stares, but we ignore it. I guess that that they're surprised that we can actually talk or something, seeing as we were both practicably invisible before we became friends.

We are friends, right?

We walk to art side by side, completely intent on whatever the other is saying, but this time instead of listening to Dan, who is giving his opinion on the new Pokemon (which involves a lot of swearing), I let my mind wander.

Dan has been looking at me suspiciously all through class. It's nearly eighty degrees outside today, and my overly large sweatshirt is bringing up some questions, as is how slow I'm moving my limbs and my face randomly showing outbursts of pain. Dan asks me if I'm okay, and if I say I'm okay he'll look at me a really long time, like he's trying to read my mind or something, but then he'll just nod and look away.

The scent of paint and chalk greets us in the art room, and Dan and I sit down at a table in the corner of the room. He's still ranting about how terrible the new Pokemon is and the teacher finally tells him to be quiet. She goes on and on about how the mural will be a big part of our grade, how it's helping the school, yadda, yadda, yadda.

I feel my eyelids droop in boredom and I doze off for a few minutes, but Dan gives my arm a poke and I wake up with a pained yelp. "God, are you okay?" he asks, his voice sounding concerned "I didn't realize how hard I poked you, sorry about that, Phil!"

"Not, it's fine, Dan, it's just a little bruise and I was tired and, you know-" Oh crap, I was talking too fast, my pathetic excuse sounding more and more like a lie the more that I talked.

Dan's eyebrows were creasing together and his face was making a 'I'm trying to read your mind' kind of look. "Phil, is everything okay?" he says "You've been acting a little strange today."

"Yeah, everything is doing just great."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I go to the front of the room and grab a pallet of paint and two brushes, and Dan and I line up to go out to where the mural would be painted. The teacher had already explained (about a dozen times) that each team would have their own spot on the wall to paint what they pleased. Dan and I's spot was at the very end of the wall in the school, so it took us a little longer to get there then the rest of the class, which was perfectly fine, seeing as it gave us more time to talk.

Before I had even decided what to paint first, Dan was already mixing colors on the back of his hand, trying to find the perfect shade of yellow to paint whatever he was going to paint. Moments later, a Pikachu was being painted and perfected, the bright colors standing out like the sun on the blank wall.

"A wild Pikachu has appeared!" I say, pretending to to be a Pokemon trainer "Go, Pokeball!" I arch my arm and throw the invisible ball, smiling through the pain of moving my limbs so quickly.

Dan laughs and paints a quick figure behind the Pikachu with black hair and throwing a pokeball. "Look, Phil, now you're a trainer!"

I laugh and paint a figure with tan skin and floppy brown hair next to the Poke-trainer me "Now we can catch them all!"

We continue painting and laughing for the rest of class, and soon the once blank canvas is filled with color. With nothing to do, Dan and I begin to flick little bits of paint at each other, Dan's black tee is soon covered with little dots of multicolored paint, as is my green sweatshirt.

I wrinkle my nose at the pasty scent of the paint, and attempt to wipe it off with my sleeve, and Dan does the same with his bare arm, only earning himself a huge line of smeared green paint that he was mixing on his arm.

"Dammit," He mumbles under his breath "my mom's going to kill me" I pretend not to notice him muttering in a high pitched voice (I assume he's impressing his mother), "Adrian never came home from school with paint on his shirt, Adrian, Adrian , perfect little Adrian."

We pack up our things and bid each other goodbye, and I walk down to my fifth period, which is Science, and I'm already counting down the minutes until seventh period in which I see Dan again. We'll probably hang out after school again, maybe a bit longer than before seeing as it's Friday.

Maybe I'll go over to his house and meet his mother and the mysterious- and apparently perfect- Adrian. I wouldn't want him coming to my poor excuse for a house and my Dad, he'd walk out and never talk to me again if he saw how I lived.

But would he? He seemed like he wouldn't do that, but who knows?

I pull out a sheet of paper and try to jot down some notes on whatever useless information is on the board, but I find myself loosing myself in a very detailed sketch of a broken bottle and dripping liquid oozing out of the sharpened edges.

"Mr. Lester," I hear right next to my ear, and I fall out of my chair in shock and confusion. A chorus of laughter erupts, and I feel my limbs scream out in pain as I hit the cold floor of the classroom. "That is a very nice drawing, but why don't you pay attention instead?" My teacher say, snatching up my drawing and walking to the front of the classroom to throw it away.

I feel my face grow red as all of the student in the room stare at me, trying to figure out what I'll do next, so I lower my head and try to catch up with what's on the board.


	7. Daffodil

**Sorry it's so late and short!**

_You're such and idiot and a twat. You know something's wrong, and you know you could've fixed it yesterday if you were to just ask him over or something. _

_It isn't your fault, just ask him about it, and if he says no, then leave him alone, okay?_

Every time that I asked him about I had a small argument in my head about it. It drove me insane, until I decided during 5th and 6th period (when he wasn't in my class) to stop asking about it. I seriously hoped that he didn't think I was crazy, though.

_So, you seriously hope that he is wrong? You hope that he doesn't know about you lack of sanity?_

_I hope he doesn't think that I'm something that I'm not!_

The two classes droned on and on as I waited for them to end, being extremely excited about 7th period. It was weird how time always seemed to fly by when you were dreading something, yet as soon as you were excited about something time came to a near stop, and seconds stretched into hours and hours on end. It wasn't as weird much it was cruel, actually.

_Stop complaining, for heaven's sakes! That's all you do! 'Oh, I'm Dan Howell, and my life sucks! I have a semi-rich mum, a nice house, and I'm a fucking pussy who will never amount to anything!'_

_Time is a bitch, isn't it?_

I ignored the voices in my head, neither of them having anything good to put into the conversation, and waited for the classes to finish (I'm not going to bore you with the details any longer, so let's just skip to 7th period now).

I walked into the classroom, my heart rushing just with the idea of talking to Phil, and with the fact that I had rushed here from the other side of the school (oh god, if felt like I was going to cough up my lungs, having to move so much so fast). When I got to the classroom, I saw Phil, already sitting in the classroom. He had his head buried in the crook of his arm, and he was clutching and unclutching his hand, as if trying to grasp a concept, yet it wasn't quite working. I wondered what happened to him, and how I could fix it, but I decided that the best first step would be to talk to him.

"Hey, Phil, what's wrong? Did something happen in class that's horrible? Do you want to talk about it?" I said, coming up to him and placing a hand on his back, rubbing slightly. I secretly smiled, loving the cat-like feel of his back, but not wanting to seem weird or anything. He leaned into it a bit, and I could tell that he like it until I got to an area that was close to the stomach, and he flinched.

_He's in pain, go check it out!_

_But… well… I should, but…_

"Phil, I know that you're hurt in some way, and please just let me help!" I said, and I could feel tears forming in my eyes. I wanted to just hold him, and tell him that everything would be okay, and tell him that I love him more than I could explain, but I couldn't really do that without seeming weird, so I decided to not do it. "Please, I love you, just… I'm sorry, it's just that I love you and I don't like you feeling like you have to hide anything around me."

_You retard what the fuck is wrong with you? And—shit. You probably just freaked him out by saying that. Why would you tell someone you barely know that you love them, you little fag? _

_Well… the truth is always the best to tell people, I guess. _

"You… what?" He said, completely shocked. I bit my lip and nodded shyly, not really know what to say.

"I mean, I just care about you a lot, and…" I let myself trail off, shrugging. He stood up suddenly, having an idea.

"Let's get out of here!" He said with an excited fire in his eyes as he smiled at me. I didn't quite know what to say to that, since I had never actually skipped school or anything like that—I had always tried to be a pretty good student and things like that, but then again, who cares.

_Oh, you should go and do it! Who cares about the woman that cares for you? Who cares about anything? Do it!_

_You probably shouldn't, but you should because you love him, but you shouldn't because you don't want to get into trouble. _

I didn't even know what the voices were saying anymore, so I just ignore them. Ever since I started hanging out with Phil, their personality had become less distinct. It was horrible, but I was used to ignoring them, so it wasn't too bad.

"What do you mean _get out of here?_ You mean, like, just skip class?" I asked, and he nodded, and then quickly covered himself up.

"Only if you want to, but we could like, go into town and escape this hell-hole for just a bit. Only if you want to, though!"

"Of course I want to! But, only if you tell me what is going on, and how you're hurt, okay?" I replied, without really thinking about it. I knew that I wanted to do it, though. I wanted to be able to spend the day with him and just go into town, or a field, or anything really.

_Pervert. _

_Cute! _

"Then let's go! Right now, let's just leave the school without having to deal with any of the real word just for a bit. Screw the consequences!" He said, and I smiled. I genuinely smiled at him, loving everything about the idea. He returned it, and we got up with our book bags, literally just walking out the door. The teacher, as usual, wasn't in there yet, so we didn't have to worry about being caught. No one even looked at us and we walked away from the school.

_This isn't going to end well. _

_This is going to be the best day of your life. _


	8. Phillip

Dan and I walked out of the doors of the school, the sun warming our faces and clothes. I had the urge to tug off my green sweatshirt, but I remembered the cuts and bruises and decided against it.

Dan had a huge grin on his face and he was giddy with excitement. He bounced along the pavement next to me, talking quickly as he did. I thought about what he had said to me earlier, about how he loved me, and I felt my heart leap out of my chest and do a little happy dance, but then how he had said _as a friend_, and my heart kind of deflated, like a balloon.

But he didn't exactly say that, right?

"Where do you want to go, Phil?" Dan said, giving my arm a little tug. I bit back the yelp that started in my throat just as it was about to escape, just in time.

"Anywhere, what do you think?"

"Where is there to go? I don't think we can go to the library, seeing as it's the middle of the day and we might get in trouble for skipping class, but other then that, we're free to go anywhere!"

I pondered over the options in my head. We could go into town, his house, _not _my house...

"How about the park?" I asked him, awaiting his reaction. His face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "I'll take that as a yes, then!"

Dan pulled out his skateboard from his backpack and hopped on it. He rolled down the street and talked to me as I watched and answered him. The walk to the park was a good fifteen minutes, and by the time we reached it, I felt like I has going to melt. I really wanted to take off this stupid sweatshirt!

I pulled off my backpack and propped it against a nearby tree, and then joined Dan, who was climbing on top of the monkey bars. From the top of the metal structure, the let his backpack fall to the ground with a loud crash. It rolled over to it's side to reveal a huge rip, several papers falling out.

I set one hand on the metal and sighed as it touched my skin with cool lips. I didn't want to climb it, I wanted to stay on the ground where there's no risk of falling, but Dan looked at me expectantly. I gritted my teeth and hoisted my body up, one bar at a time. moments later I sat next to Dan, our legs dangling in the warm air.

We said nothing, perfectly content with each-other's presence and the silence. I didn't want to say or do anything, just lean back and enjoy the bliss. Dan lets out a long sigh and leans back, his left arm brushing against mine momentarily. If my arm had of been bare I probably would of died a little inside from happiness overload.

"Phil?"

"Mhm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Oh god, oh god, he's going to ask me why I've been acting so weird lately, stay cool, stay cool! "Um, okay."

Dan looks at me very seriously for a moment, then stands up slowly and carefully, balancing on the slender metal poles. He gets down on one knee and pulls out a little black box from his pocket.

"Phil Lester..."

"Oh god, Dan what the hell are you doing?"

"Will you do me the honor..." he opens the box and there's a small slip of paper with a note on the inside "..of being my best friend?" He tosses me the box and I catch it one handed. Looking closer at the paper I read _"You're a twat." _written in curly handwriting.

I bust out laughing at him and give him a playful shove. He looses his balance for a moment or two and wildly waves his arms, then quickly gains it back again by grabbing one of the slender metal poles.

We're both laughing and gasping for air, a nearby couple sitting on a blanket frown at us, and gather up their belongings and stomp away. Dan jumps down from the monkey bars without any effort. On the other hand, I have to climb down, slowly, ever so slowly as not to disrupt any of the bruises.

Dan inspects the rip on his schoolbag and swears under his breath at the damage. he crumples up the papers that his fallen out and shoves them in through the hole, and swings the bag on his back.

I check my watch, kids from our school should be getting out any minute now. I frown at the idea of them, and tell Dan.

"Okay, where do you want to go now?"

Dan opens his mouth to answer, but a beeping from his phone interrupts him. He hold up a finger to indicate me to give him a moment, and I nod as he checks the number and grimaces. He taps a button and winces as he holds the phone up to his ear.

I hear a shrill and irritated voice on the other line and Dan looks him at the ground and clenches his fists. His answers to the woman on the other line are short and irritated, never more then one or two words.

"Yes."

Pause.

"Sorry."

Pause.

"No."

Dan's phone beeps and he turns it off, then shoves it in his pocket. He looks hurt, like the woman had touched a nerve or two.

"Are you alright?"

"Well, I have bad news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?"

I raise my eyebrows and brace myself for whatever the bad news is to come.

"I have to go home," he says, and I look down at the ground "And the other bad news is that she wants to meet you."

"Who?"

"My mom."

I feel myself get a little bit happier and I look back up at him "How is that bad news?"

"She's the definition of Satan, and we hate each other, but she's glad-" He makes in-the-air quotations with his fingers "- that I've made a friend."

"Well, lets go, then!"


	9. Danny Boy

"Okay, where do you want to go now?" He asked, and I could have just gotten lost in his eyes. Anywhere with him would be fine with me.

_Fag. _

_Sweet. _

I was about to answer, but I felt my phone buzz and beep in my pocket. I sometimes I forgot that I even had a phone, but I knew exactly who was calling. Who else would it be? I picked it up, and immediately she started with her lectures.

"I heard that you and this _Philip Lester _boy skipped class, is this true?" She said. She didn't sound like she was going to kill me, to my surprise, but she still sounded mad.

"Yes."

"I can't believe this! Did you really have to go this far? Adrian would never do something like this, Dan! What's wrong you?"

_God, fucking fag, what __**is**__ wrong with you?_

_Do what you enjoy in life. _

"Sorry."

"Okay, I want you and your friend to come home—and bring him. And Dan… I'm… glad that you have a friend. That's always been the difference between you and Adrian—you've never had as many friends as he has. I think that if you get more than maybe you can live up to him or something. But if you like him enough to skip class with him, then I must meet him… he's probably not a very good influence, though. Just bring him home with you. Will you be late again?"

"No."

"Okay, you have 20 minutes at the most. Be home as quickly as possible." She hung up and I shoved the phone into my pocket. Shit, this was going to be horrible.

_She's going to kill him. Kiss your little friend goodbye now, lover-boy._

_Maybe she likes him, or something. _

"Are you alright?" Phil asked. I decided to just tell him.

"Well, I have bad news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?" I said sarcastically. He raised his eyebrows at me. "I have to go home. The other bad news is that she wants to meet you."

He seemed almost happy about this, and he asked "Who?"

"My mum." I said. I could feel my own fear pulsing through my veins, and I almost feared for him.

"How is _that_ bad news?" He asked, and looked him in the eyes, extremely serious. I had a bad feeling about all of this.

"She's the definition of Satan, and we hate each other, but she's glad-" I made quotes around the rest of the sentence "- that I've made a friend."

He smiled, and I had the urge, despite all that was going to happen, to return it. "Well, let's go, then!" He said, and we walked happily down the road, possibly to our doom.

_You're going to lose this friend. Shame, you were just becoming best friends, but you, little faggot, have not officially lost all chances of that. Your fault, idiot. _

_You can try and fix this or something. It can't be that bad. _

The walk home went too fast. We barely talked, and the air between us only got thicker with each passing moment—the happy vibe faded after a couple minutes. I'm pretty sure that by the way that I was acting he knew that I was nervous about with this. I rubbed my hands together and sighed, looking at my house. It was already just meters away, and I pointed at it.

"That's my house." I said, and he looked up, his eyes wondrous.

"It's so big and pretty!" He said, a smile spreading across his face. There was something that danced in his eyes as he looked at how large and schmancy my house was.

I didn't reply as I led him in. Immediately I head my mother moving around in the kitchen. What time is it?

_It's fucking 5:42, idiot! It's close enough to being dinner time for her to start on it, and you should fucking know what's happening, it's obvious!_

_Don't worry; you'll all just have a nice civilized chat over dinner! It'll be fine!_

I hoped that the second voice was right in this case (and I don't even know how my voices know the time, they just do. They always just do).

"Daniel, is that you with your little friend?" My mother asked. I flinched and sighed. There was my mother.

"Yes. We'll be in my room!" I yelled, and hurried Phil upstairs before she could argue. I knew that we would have to eat, but that could wait until later.

When I was finally all the way up in my room, I closed the door after Phil, then rested my back against the door. I hadn't realised how scared I was until I felt how high my pulse was and how red my cheeks felt.

"Dan, it's fine, there's nothing to worry about!" Phil said, kindly. I looked up and was immediately met with his eyes.

"Uh…" He was closer than I had expected, and his face was only centimetres from mine. I know that I've said I love his eyes before, but they really were beautiful. There was a whirl of colours in them, all shades of blue ranging from the softest blue that you would imagine a child's soft blanket being to the dark blue-black of the midnight sky. It was wonderful in every way, the way that they were all defiant colours and streaks rather than the single boring old brown colour of my eyes. Absolutely beautiful.

Even better, though, was the fact that right then and there, staring into his eyes, the constant argument of the voices inside of my head stopped. I didn't hear the rude, bad side calling me a fag, or the happy one trying and failing to defend me. For the first time I could really remember, everything was quiet.

And I was happy about that.

"Trust me, Dan, things can't go that badly." He said, and I blushed even harder, and my pulse kept hammering away, making my knees weak. His voice was husky and low, and I could feel him drawing nearer. I took his advice. _Things can't go that badly. _

I'm not sure who made the move or who decided that this was the time, but our lips crashed together. His lips warm and soft against mine, yet with a perfect dash of harshness, and I could tell that he frequently licked his lips by the texture of them. He pressed me closer to the door, and I smiled into the kiss, loving and trying to savour every second of it. All too soon, though, we had to pull apart. When I looked up at him, I saw that his hands were on either side of my head, and he was leaning over me.

"Uh…" I said, looking up and blushing at him. I could feel every place that his skin came into contact with mine, since it gave this buzz that warmed me from the inside. Even how his hand was barely brushing the top of my right ear, or how his hair tickled my cheek just slightly.

"Yeah." He replied, not knowing what we just did, either. He moved to pull away, but I gently grabbed his wrist. He flinched.

"Phil…" I trailed off as I carefully pulled up his sleeve. He looked away, but didn't pull back, silently giving me permission to look. When I saw what was there, I let out a gasp.

Line after line after line of cuts covered his arm—they were too straight to be unintentional—paired with bruises that formed a hand. There was what looked like marks from being hit and from a leather belt, and from someone's own razor. I felt like every cut was a cut into my own heart. I didn't know how to respond, but without even thinking I brought his arm up to my lips. I gently pressed my lips to each and every cut on his arm, trying to wash away all of the pain that came with each and every one of them. I couldn't imagine how much pain he would have to me going through to have so many cuts covering his arms.

"Take off your jumper." I said, looking him in the eyes. He looked shy, but there was a gentle command in my voice that I knew that he wouldn't be able to say no to, so he obliged. While taking it off, I saw that his shirt lifted up slightly, and I saw a glimpse of his stomach. It was a palate of blues, purples, greens, and yellows. There was none of his beautiful pale skin that wasn't touched by such a pain that I could seem from the small look that I got. And his arms, both of them, were covered in bruises and scratches, and lines from self-harm. It was devastating.

"Phil…" I said again, pulling him closer, careful not to hurt him. It was hard to find a way to hold him without hurting him, but I managed to find a way to hold him. I felt like crying, and my throat closed up as I held him. My little angel with broken wings, in a place where the wind was too strong to let him fly.

"I'm sorry. I guess, I don't know, I should probably get going now or something." He said, moving to leave. I was afraid to lose contact with him, since I knew that contact with him was what was stopping the voices.

"No! Phil, I love you. I'm sorry that we didn't meet earlier, but I love you and I want to help you through this." I said, locking hands with him. I once again found my way to his eyes and he stopped trying to leave. I saw that there were tears in his eyes, and he stutter out a single question.

"D-do you r-really love m-me?" I knew that he wasn't just asking for conformation, he was shocked. He didn't think that I actually loved him—he didn't think that he was lovable.

"Of course." I slowly retracted my hand away from his, planning on putting it on his face. It seemed like a perfectly normal and valid plan, yet what I didn't expect was as soon as I removed my hand from his and lost all contact with him, my voices came back louder than I could have possibly imagined.

_**FAG! FAGGOT! OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING QUEER FAGGOT?! WHY DO YOU EVEN EXIST?! FAG FAG FAG!**_

_**DAN, IT'S FINE! YOUR MOTHER WILL LOVE YOU, IT'S FINE, DAN DAN DAN! **_

_**FAG FAG FAG!**_

_**DAN DAN DAN!**_

I couldn't even think, and I could barely process what was happening when you world started to spin a bit. I couldn't hear Phil trying to talk to me, and I sat down on my bed, holding my head between my hands. It felt like my brain might split open at any moment.

"Dan, what's happening? Are you okay?" I could barely hear Phil, and I couldn't answer him. I could feel tears pricking my eyes as I tried to process a single though, but nothing could get through the complete wall of noise from the two voices.

"JUST SHUT UP!" I yelled, not at Phil, though. I knew that he knew that, but I could also tell he had no idea what was going on. I couldn't do anything, and shortly after that I blacked out.


	10. The One Boy Who Likes Lions

"JUST SHUT UP!"

Dan's brown eyes went blank and his body slumped down on his bed. I heard his mother marching up the stairs, and I tugged on my sweatshirt just as she reached the door.

"What happened?" She said, shaking Dan's shoulders a little bit and propping him up a bit. The room started to spin a bit from shock and I steadied myself on a chair.

"Um, we were-" I stopped myself from saying the word _kissing _"Just, um, talking and then he started to freak out, is he alright?"

Ms. Howell laid Dan on his bed and pulled a blanket on top of him. "Oh, he's fine, don't you worry dear," she said in a soothing voice "He's been like this ever since the accident."

I followed Dan's mother down the stairs and she sat me down on the couch. "I'll only be a minute, Phillip, would you like some tea?"

"Yes, thanks."

Ms. Howell walked to the kitchen and I heard her fill the kettle with water. I don't understand why Dan doesn't like her, she's rather nice.

I wondered what "_The accident" _was, maybe it has to do with the mysterious Adrian.

I lean back on the couch and attempt to clear my mind; too many thing has been happening at once and I wanted my mind to stop nagging me about it.

Dan's mother returns minutes later with a tray of tea and cookies in her hands. Looking closely at her, i can see tired eyes, and unlike Dan's warm brown ones, her eyes are a deep blue, almost black.

"Now I expect you'll be wondering why Dan's like this, uh-huh?"

"Well, I guess so, but only if it's okay with-"

"Dan has a mild case of schizophrenia," Ms. Howell says, as if absolutely delighted about it "It happened shortly after the death of his brother, he was never quite the same afterwards."

Oh.

"He was with Adrian, his brother, on the highway and Dan kept bothering him and they crashed into a pickup truck. The sun visor in his car somehow managed to cut off Adrian's head and Dan had to sit through the whole thing. It's basically Dan's fault."

Suddenly I didn't want my tea anymore. I tried to image what Dan must've seen, how he felt. I picture a head soaring through the air for a few moments, then landing next to me, the eyes staring into nothing, all life expelled with a single movement.

I felt repulsed at Dan's mother, how casually she talked about it, like buying a new pair of trousers or going for a relaxing holiday.

"When was this?" I ask, my voice cracking mid-sentence.

"A few months ago, Dan was so traumatized that we had to move house and I had to enroll him for a new school. He's so difficult, if Adrian was still here and Dan died, none of this would of happened."

We sit in silence for a few minutes, Ms. Howell sipping at her tea and tapping away on her phone. She suddenly looks me in the eyes and studies me for a moment or two "He's a bad influence, isn't he?"

"No, I think he's great."

"Dear, you don't have a very good judgement," she says, giving my hands a pat 'Now, Adrian on the other hand, oh, you would've liked him. he was always so talented at school and art-"

"Dan's good at art," I say, interrupting her "he could get into any art school in the world."

"Yes, that's nice dear, but Adrian, oh, he could cook and clean, and he was so handsome. He had a lovely girlfriend and he was so popular, he had so many friends-"

I block out Ms. Howell's praise on Adrian, and think about Dan. I wonder what's going through his mind right now, I wonder how he copes. Obviously he doesn't cut, his skin is perfect and unblemished, unlike my skin that is a dirty canvas.

I always did see him muttering to himself, like he was talking to someone that wasn't there. Maybe that's part of the schizophrenia, maybe he thinks I'm a hallucination, just a figment of his imagination. How horrible it must be to live that way, everything you've ever known or believed, just something that your brain made up.

Reality can be such a cruel place.

"Phillip, are you listening?"

"Oh, sorry, Ms. Howell, I must've dozed off for a second."

"Perfectly okay, dear," she says "Now, what about you and your family?"

"Oh, I live with my father, about half an hour away."

"That's nice, what about your mother?"

My god, this woman was nosy "Um, she passed away when I was very young."

"Was she ill?"

"No, I don't remember, my father doesn't like to talk about it."

Ms. Howell continues droning on about her oldest son and i zone out again. How I wanted to see Dan again, who was trapped in his world of sadness and hallucinations, ongoing battles between himself. I wanted to hold him in my arms and tell him that everything will be okay, stroke his feather soft hair and kiss his soft lips.

How real life could be so boring.


	11. Dan the Llama Man

"Yeah, Adrian was _definitely _my favourite child of the two, though if you knew him that would be obvious." Seriously, mum? You haven't even known him for a day, and you're already pointing all of my flaws to him.

I tried to yell at her, but I couldn't even get out a word—it came out more like a groan. That did, however, get their attention. I barely managed to mummer, "Turn the lights down and go away mum."

"Oh, and there he goes again. Adrian would _never_ talk to me like that!" I could tell that she turned her snake-like smiled at Phil as she continued, "Oh, honey, I'll be down stairs finishing up with dinner. You two have your fun little play date up here!" I smiled slightly as I heard her leave.

_She's right, you know. _

_Don't listen to her. _

"Dan, are you okay?" He asked, gently and carefully grabbing my hand and rubbing circles on it. I slowly opened my eyes and looked up at him, smiling.

"Nothing that hasn't happened before," he chuckled slightly before continuing. "I just wasn't expecting what happened… she told you about it, didn't she? The '_mild case of schizophrenia' _or whatever it is, but it isn't as bad as you probably think—it's barely even real. Just some arguments in my head that tend to get out of hand." I said, shrugging. I didn't see things; that actually isn't a very common form of schizophrenia. With this form of it I just heard the voices in my head.

"She told me a bit about it, but mostly she just complained. Now I understand why you hate her so much, though." What he said made me laugh, and the way he said it made my heart swoon—he was so adorable when he said it like that.

"Yeah, she's like that—she has every right to complain, just look at me, but still. I hate her." I shook my head, sitting up in bed. I hated having to lie down for too long after these sorts of incidents, since the longer I stay still the louder the voices get. They were almost always there, but sometimes they just get overwhelming—I had never had them completely gone the way they were when I was with Phil, though.

That reminded me about what we did, and I blushed slightly, but he moved to make sure that I didn't pass out again.

"I'm fine, just having a reality check—what exactly happened before I passed out, to be clear on the subject?" I looked up at him, and he blushed as well.

_That confirms it, you two are fags. _

_Aw, you guys are so cute together! _

"Well, we kind of…" He smiled slightly, but also looked really embarrassed and buried his head in his hands. I smiled, carefully putting my hand on his shoulder.

"Just making sure that I wasn't dreaming." I said, looking him in the eyes. We both had red and heated faces, but we didn't care. I smiled, getting up and walking over to him. "And just to make sure that you still approve…" I was about to plant another kiss on his lips—which he look willing to return—when my mother called up, "Boys, dinner is done!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake…" I muttered, while we dragged ourselves downstairs. My mother was there, and she immediately passed over me, and then looked straight at Phil. She has known him for around an hour, yet cares about him more than she cares about me.

_Who would want to look at __**you?**_

_You're just too hot for her mundane eyes! _

I couldn't help but laugh at what the second voice said, earning myself a worried look from Phil and a scolding look from my mother. Completely ignoring my mother, I looked at Phil and whispered, "It's nothing, just my crazy acting up." And he giggled. I returned with a small giggle from myself and my mum looked like she might throw up. That just made me smile even more.

"So, Phil, what do your parents do?" My mum asked, and I scowled.

"His mother passed away when he was younger, and he doesn't really like talking about it, _mother dearest._" I said bitterly, sitting down at the table. Our seats were already laid out, and the food on our tables, and our silverware all lair out and everything. Gee, thanks mother, first time you've actually cooked dinner for me.

Phil, on the other hand, looked completely amazed—we were having cooked asparagus and spaghetti for the main course, and our nice dinnerware our (the silver ones with the plating that looked gold. It could be like, actual gold, but I don't think so). I tried not to smile, but I had to as he looked at the ladle that was for the soup bowl that was filled with clam chowder for the pre-course food. I knew that mum had something for dessert that she would give us, and it would be something that would woo Phil even more. I, on the other hand, didn't want to eat anything that _she_ made due to fear of poisoning.

Once we were all sitting down at the table we all got our soup and ate in silence (I am pretty sure that things would have worked our better if Phil and I were in different places because A: My mum wouldn't have kicked him in the shine for slouching when guests are over, though, not hard enough for it to count for anything, and B: Phil and I's elbows hit each other 14+ times). I would never tell my mum this, but it was pretty good, and the cracker choice that went with it _was_ exquisite. The bitter-sweet taste of the fact that it's her cooking tainted it, though.

"So, uh, Mrs Howell, what do you do for a living?" Phil asked, and I patted his shoulder lightly to show that he was fine. He smiled at my slightly and I returned it.

"Oh, that's so sweet of you to ask, Phil! I'm a Nurse Practitioner, so I help out the doctors and when they haven't shown up yet I take over for them." She said with a smug smile on her face. She truly loved her job just so that she could rub what she does in their face.

"Oh, that's cool." He said, smiling slightly. He was seriously too nice, and it was completely adorable.

_Wow, you guys are going to make me throw up. Ugh. _

_I think that you two will have a nice, adorable relationship!_

"So, what classes do you and Daniel have in common?" She asked, and she was just so slickly sweet that I felt like I might throw up.

"Well, we're both in Art, and we're in the same English class, History, and Chemistry." He said, and I thought about how we skipped Chemistry, smiling.

She looked at the two of us, and said, "Oh, so Daniel must have been the one that got you so covered in paint! I'm sorry, Philip, about my son. He just gets so out of hand sometimes."

I could see Phil's hands clench when she said that, but my mum's work phone luckily let out a shrill tone that showed some doctor need her help or someone just died or something.

_Seriously, someone just died! It's __**your**__ fault she wasn't there to save them!_

_Someone just probably has to get their appendix removed or something—something harmless!_

Before you ask, no, I don't know what an _appendix_ is, or what it does, and if they get their appendix removed, it could actually be deadly for all I know.

"Shit, sorry boys, I have to go! Work, though fun, does take up a lot of my time for things like this!" And she rushed out of the door, slipping on her shoes as she ran to her car.

"Well… that was sudden." Phil said, smiling.

"Yeah, she does that. You get used to it, and it's saved my arse a thousand times." I replied, shrugging. "Hey, how about we go and take showers. You can borrow some of my clothes."

He looked hesitant to take up my offer and shrugged. "Sure, if it isn't too much."

"Trust me, it's not a problem. My mum has a pretty high payment, so she just shouts at me and takes me shopping every once in a while, and buys me all the clothes that are my size. I get a bunch of just single-coloured shirts and jeans." I said, and added, "We can go after we eat, of course."

He nodded, smiling thankfully, and we dug in, eating as much as we could (though, my mother had decided to make an abundance of food, so we could eat all we wanted, but the amount just never ended). I let him use the guest bathroom, and leant him one of my red long-sleeved shirts and some jeans while I had a shower in my own bathroom (yes, I have my bathroom


	12. The Phil of Amazingness

I stared at the multicolored swirls of brightly colored paint as they coiled around the drain. I had succeeded at removing most of the paint from my face and hair, and most of my clothes, leaving little blotches of slightly darker colored fabric where the sweatshirt and jeans had gotten wet.

Dan's guest bathroom was large and covered with white tiles, everything was so clean and shiny, not like anything I had ever had access to before. There were shell patterns framing the sink, shower and mirrors and stitched into the towel that I has trying to dry my hair with.

The soft hum of running water above me signaled that Dan was still in the shower, so after I pulled on the red shirt and black jeans that he had let me borrow I found myself in his room, his bed still a mess from when he passed out.

I sat down on the unmade bed and looked around his room, taking in the posters that he had covered his room with, along with drawing and photos. In a small collage in the far corner of his bed there was a collection of photos of Dan and a group of teenagers. Judging by how Dan looked in the photo graph, I assumed that the photo was taken about a year, a year and a half at tops ago. The Dan in the photo had happy, shining eyes and his arms were around the group of teens.

I noticed that with every picture, one of the people in the group disappeared the rest of them in the photo looking a little more sad, the smiled not as genuine, forced like something or something was pressuring them to smile.

Soon it was just a picture of Dan and a boy with bright green eyes sitting on a park bench, both of them looking so sad and depressed it made my stomach hurt.

Then there were no more pictures.

I slumped down on the bed and pulled a pillow to my chest. The drone of running water shut off and I heard footsteps coming closer. Dan opened the door to his room wearing nothing but a towel and I felt a blush creep to my cheeks.

"Sorry, I can leave if-"

"No, it's fine, I'll only be a moment."

I slapped the pillow that I was holding to my face as Dan opened his drawers and rummaged for a pair of jeans and a shirt.

My face feeling hot, I moved the pillow a tiny inch, and saw Dan. He was standing there, his back to me and he was completely naked, my face felt like it was on fire from embarrassment. I quickly moved the pillow back to my face, feeling like Dan had actually seen me peek at him, even though I was pretty sure that he hadn't seen me.

"Okay, you can look, I have trousers on."

I tossed the pillow to the top of Dan's bed and stared at him. he didn't have a shirt on, his tan chest more perfect as anything I've ever seen before. The blush from before can back to my face and quickly vanish as Dan tugged on a purple and red short sleeved shirt.

We sat there in silence for a moment or two, and I found myself breaking it with a question: "What happened to the people in the pictures?"

Dan looked down a the floor, a look of pain on his face. He flopped onto the bed and crawled over the the corner in which I was sitting and the pictures were. I squirmed out of the way as he pointed to a girl with curly blonde hair.

"Carrie, devoted girlfriend of Alex-" he pointed to a boy with messy brown hair and a huge smile "- got raped and killed by her father."

"Oh my gosh-"

"He killed himself a week later."

I close my mouth and let him continue, wishing I had never opened it in the first place.

He looked at the next photo in which Alex and Carrie were missing. "Charlie and Bryarly got in a car crash a few months later, Charlie lost his mind and has been in hospital ever since. He didn't remember Bryarly or any of us, so she moved away to try to recover."

"Chris and Peej always liked each other but never admitted it, a cute kind of skinny love. Chris's family had a long history of illnesses and he developed cancer. He held on for a few months but then something went wrong at the hospital and he died. Peej went into a deep depression and tried to kill himself, and failed. He mother made him move away from the memories."

"Only a few month ago I found out that he had tried to kill himself again. This time he succeeded."

"After all of this, my mother finally had enough of me 'always moping around' so she made me move house, right after Adrian died."

Dan looked down at the crumpled fabric of his bed and a single tear rolled down his face. I moved closer to him and wrapped my arms around him, and he pushed into my shoulder. I pressed my lips to his cheek and he nuzzled his head into my neck, tears now dripping in a steady stream down his face and into the shirt he had let me borrow.

"It's all my fault!" he whispered "I could of stopped all those deaths, but I did nothing!"

"No, no, no, it's not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong. None of this happened because of you."

"Yes they did, Phil! It's all my fault!"

I pulled away from him for a split second and put two fingers under his chin, forcing him to look at me. "You did nothing wrong."

When he didn't reply, I impulsively move forward and crash my lips into his, kissing him with more passion that I had anticipated. He kissed me back, and I felt his eyelashes quiver on the skin under my eyes. He let his neck fall back and let out a small moan as I gasped for air then quickly returning my lips to his.

Once, twice, three times I press my lips to his, no more than a second at a time until I finally pull away. He leans back into the pillows and I nestle into his chest, feeling warmer and safer than I've ever felt before. I wrap my hands around him and he shivers as his shirt slips up and my arms are in contact with his skin.

My eyelids grow heavy and I give in to the beckons of slumber. Dan hums a song to either himself or me and I finally fall asleep, Dan's song creeping it's way into my dreams.


	13. Daniel James Howell

We were laying on my bed while I hummed _Toxic_ by Brittany Spheres to Phil, hoping he wouldn't notice what song it is. I mean, it seemed romantic enough, and it might ruin it if he found out what song it was, but yet I kept whistling it.

Before I knew it, he was asleep, his head on my chest, our breath synced. He was really warm, but in a good way. He reminded me of a cat, and I played with his hair as I waited for sleep.

_Come on, shut the fuck on you cock-sucking fairy. _

_You guys are so, so, __**so**__ adorable! OMFG!_

I'm pretty sure that if you know anything about me, then you would know that sleep wouldn't be coming any time soon for me. It takes literally eight hours for me to be able to get to sleep, which made it so that if I went to bed at a decent hour (around nine) I would get exactly two hours of sleep. The problem with that, however, is that I am unable to get into bed before three in the morning unless I have a beautiful boy sleeping on my chest, so I almost never get sleep.

If I think about it, that was probably what caused me to go insane, paired with how much I dragged death around to the people around me. I mean, I probably get eight hours of sleep in a week, rather than the healthy eight hours in a day. I've been told by most humans that that isn't healthy.

Phil moved slightly, and I wrapped my arms around him protectively, and he cuddled closer to me. So, we sat there, for hours, and I just basked in the presence of him. It was wonderful, as I listened to his breathing and his heart beat was in sync with mine. The voices, rather than growing in the silence, died down to a soft and muffled mummer as I drifted off into a nice, short slumber.

Waking up is shit.

I'm sure that you know this if you're a sane teenager that has the sort of sleeping schedule that I have, you would know that. Now, imagine being an insomniac with voices in their head that never really sleep.

Yeah, waking up is shit.

Today, however, was different. I didn't have the voices yelling as loud as they could within my mind, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I took comfort in their constant chatter, despite how much I hate it. What made that okay, however, was Phil lying on my chest, looking me in the eyes. He was just staring at me, and I smiled at him, while still not opening my eyes. "You realise that I'm not going to school today, right?"

"You're not?" He asked, smiling playfully. I looked him in the eyes and shook my head with a smile.

"Well, yesterday our day off was not only cut short, but it started late! So, therefore, I believe I should get a refund! Only if you're okay with it, of course." I said, hugging him protectively. He was nuzzled up to my neck, and I smiled into him. He made me feel so warm on the inside, it was wonderful.

"Awesome! Best Thursday that could ever happen!" He said, smiling.

_Sorry, I'm busy throwing up. _

_Aw, so adorable, it's awesome! And the best part is that your mother has already left the house this morning, and besides, you two would be late anyways, it's 10:28!_

"Whoa, it's nearly ten-thirty! Good thing that we're skipping today, or else we'd be really late!" I said, laughing. He blinked at me, looking confused.

"How did you…"

"What?" I asked, genuinely confused about his confusion.

"The time! Like, seriously, your internal clock can't be that in-tune! How did you just know it, I had contact with your eyes the entire time!" He said, bewildered. It took me a second, but then I burst out laughing.

"The time is easy to tell when you have voices in your head at all times telling you it at random times. I also know that my mother came home at around…"

_Ten._

"Ten o'clock last night, and left at around…"

_Five forty-five. _

"Five forty-five this morning, and now it's ten twenty-nine." I said, shrugging. He gave me this look that said that I was being weird again, and I sighed to myself. "My crazy is showing again, isn't it?"

"A little bit, but I think it's pretty cool!" He said, smiling at me. I smiled back, placing my hands on the back of his head and ruffling his hair a bit. He giggled and nuzzled into my hand like a little kitten. My little kitten.

_You know that everything that you love dies, so why even try? You're just going to end up hurting him. _

_Maybe this one is different. _

"What do you want to do on our day off, Dan?" He said, sitting up. I laughed, sitting up next to him. I was still in my clothes that I was wearing yesterday, as was he, but they were all crinkled up from sleeping in them. I decided to let him change into some of my clean clothes and put his from the other day through the wash. Today was going to be awesome.

"Well, first of all, we have to go get some ice cream and we can go to the video game store and maybe play some Pokémon, and maybe watch some movies here or go to the theatre—the possibilities are endless, really." I patted his head and pulled him to my closet, where I grabbed a sky-blue, long-sleeved shirt that was a bit small for me and handed it to him, along with another pair of jeans (that I have become too fat for) and some underpants.

"What—oh, Dan, I don't need more clothes! I still have these!" He said, shaking his head and gesturing to the clothes that he was wearing. I shook my head, holding the clothes out to him.

"These are too small for me, anyways, so you can keep them, along with the ones that you're wearing right now. Trust me; it's not a problem, Phil." I said. Something about the way that he said my name made my heart rush and my face go red, so I decided to try and use his. There was little affect, but the name itself was smooth and felt wonderful as it rolled off of my tongue. There was something special about his name—there was something special about him.

"Oh, okay, well, if you insist. Would you mind if I used your bathroom?" He asked, messing with his hair. I smiled and nodded, kissing him on the top of the head and pointing to the door on the other side of the room where my bathroom was located. He nodded and went in to change, leaving me to change myself.

It wasn't long before we were both changed and getting ready to leave the house.

"Hey, Phil, do you want to ride one of my skateboards—I have three, like that spoilt brat that I am." I said, laughing as I grabbed one of him and looked at him. He shook his head, giggling as well.

"No thanks, I can't really ride a skateboard—I mean, I trip and fall when I'm walking in a straight line, who would trust me on a skateboard?" He replied.

"I'll totally trust you on a skateboard! You haven't ridden one, though? Isn't there a law somewhere that says all teenage boys have to ride one or something? Come on, I'll teach you!" I said, grabbing my Pokémon board and my Adventure Time board (I seriously don't know how I'm as insane as I am, I am so spoiled that it's sad).

_Seriously? You fags are going to waste your education and __**skateboard?**__ You two deserve to die. _

_I think that what you two are doing is extremely romantic! _

Ignoring my voices, I grabbed the two boards and placed them on the sidewalk—I lived at the top of a small hill, so this would be a good place to teach him.

Well, this will either be disastrous or really fun.


	14. Phillip Michel Lester

I stood stiffly on Dan's skateboard, teetering slightly as Dan steadied me by placing his hands on my hips. "Okay, just put one foot on the ground and push, and just keep doing it if you slow down again."

I nodded my head and did as he said, rolling forward slowly. Dan skated a few yards ahead of me and beckoned me to move closer. I moved forward easily and smiled at how simple it was to move. Dan laughed and rolled down the hill, and I pushed myself forward and rolled after him, the wind blowing my hair away from my face.

Wooping, I moved left and right by shifting my body weight from either side of the skateboard, finally scraping the bottom of my foot against the road, causing an unpleasant scraping sound. I jumped off of the skateboard, and it rolled into the sidewalk, flipping over to reveal the design beneath.

"You did pretty well for your very first time on a skateboard!" Dan said, bending down to pick the board up.

"I was so nervous that I was going to fall off!" I panted, the sound of my blood pounding in my ears. I wiped to sweat from my forehead with the back of my sleeve and let out a long breath, filled with relief that I didn't fall off and break my neck.

"If you came close to falling off i would catch you," Dan said stooping down to kiss my cheek and wrap his arms around my shoulders. I wrapped my fingers around his hands and buried my face in his neck. He flinched for a second and slowly relaxed, breathing out through his nose.

We quickly broke apart as a car rolled by and I reached down to pick up my skateboard. Dan and I walked back up to the top of the hill to the very front of his house and I sat down on the edge of the sidewalk, watching Dan as has preformed simple tricks on his board. Sometimes I would try to re-create them, only to fail epicly.

After a few hours of this, we went back inside and tried to make food. Dan messily poured random ingredients in a bowl and poured them into a shiny metal pot. Moments later, smoke started to cloud the kitchen and I coughed loudly as Dan opened several windows and turned off the smoke alarms with the end of a broom.

"Ugh, I hate smoke..." I muttered as I poured out the contents of whatever Dan put in the pot into the garbage.

"I do too, one time I kissed a girl who smoked, like, 10 packs a day. It was like licking an ashtray!"

I laughed and followed Dan into the living room. He plopped down on the couch and stretched his arms across to leather seat and I sat down next to him. He pulled me into him and I nuzzled down into his chest, feeling like a cat. He planted a light kiss on top of my head and I returned it with on of my own on his cheek.

"You're like a little kitten," Dan whispers to me, his warm breath tickling my ear "You're my little kitten."

"Meow."

Dan laughs and extends his hand to turn on the television. He flips through the channels randomly, searching for something to watch. He finally settles on an old Doctor Who episode from when the show first came out, back when it was filmed in black and white.

I try to concentrate on the show, but thoughts of my father wouldn't let me. I imagine what he would do to me the next time I saw him, abandoning my chores and not making sure everything was clean and perfect for him when he arrived home. He would defiantly slap me across my face, possibly punch me, depending on if he was drunk or sober. My body tenses as I thought about the beating that I would defiantly receive when I arrived home.

I might even get a black eye, maybe sprain my wrist like he did a few months ago, I had to say that I fell from a tree after he was forced to take me to the doctor's.

It's only been two days, I already knew that he would, or had, received the message about skipping school, I don't think he would actually care about cutting class in general, just another reason to punish me.

An hour ticks by and Dan is snoring softly into my neck. His arms are limp, but still encasing me. My dad would not approve of me having a boyfriend, he was a huge anti-gay supporter, anything that he didn't just isn't the right way.

Is Dan my boyfriend? Relationships are full of whispered nothings into ears and sex. I didn't think Dan and I would have sex anytime soon, it wasn't the very first thing on my mind.

I wasn't a virgin, I had went to a party a few years ago and had sex with a very tipsy girl, but I can't really say anything because I was young and drunk and eager for sex.

From then until about two years ago, I had on and off relationships with two girls and one boy. I wasn't exactly happy in any of them, I think I just dated for the sake of dating, and all of them had ended pretty badly. I had been cheated on by my first, a girl called Lucy, the second had broken up with me right after sex, and the boy, Alec, was only experimenting.

Dan's arms moved to his face and he rubbed his eyes and stretched out his body, groaning a little bit as he did. "Good morning," I say to him, pushing a lock of his brown hair from his eyes. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, sure."

I stood up and stretched out my arms and legs as Dan got up and stood beside me. He walked over to the television and turned it off, the theme tune to Doctor Who cutting off abruptly.

"I need some air," Dan says, looking uncomfortable, his eyes shifting from place to place, as if someone was in his house that I couldn't see "Can you come with me?"

"Sure."

Dan and I walk out of the front door of his house and sit down on the small three by three concrete porch. The sun was setting, and the air was slightly colder than it had been last time we came out here. I flopped down on my stomach and Dan sat down beside me, his back leaning on his house.

"PHIL WHAT THE FUCK!"

I spin my head around to look at the very last person I ever wanted to see: My father.

"YOU SACK OF SHIT WERE THE HELL HAVE YOU FUCKING BEEN, YOU BETTER FUCKING GET YOUR WORTHLESS BUTT IN THIS FUCKING CAR RIGHT NOW, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU MAKE ME GET OUT I WILL FUCKING BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR SKINNY BODY!"

"Um, bye, Dan!" I say, getting up (and scraping my elbows in the process) and running to the car, not looking back at the only person who actually cared about me.

I climb into the rickety vehicle in which I dread, and am greeted by the scent of cheap beer and sweat. I wrinkle my nose and look him in the eyes. He glares down at me and I look down at my shoes. "FUCKING LOOK AT ME YOU SACK OF SHIT!"

I slowly look up at him' and receive a hard punch to my face, blood flowing and skin screaming in pain. Blood splatters the windshield and I let out a gasp of pain and try to steady to flow of the oozing red liquid.

My head grows foggy with the horrible smells of blood and beer and my breathing quickens and I feel like throwing up.

My dad drives over the speed limit and flies through the red lights to our house. He pushes me out of the car and I fall onto gravel, the small shards or rock breaking the skin on my palms. my dad drags me by my arm to the house, the sleeve rolling up to my elbow. The bruise from a few days earlier an ugly bluish purple color and my cuts on full display.

"Are you fucking cutting yourself?"

"Don't touch me!"

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST FUCKING SAT TO ME YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE FUCK?"

He flings me onto the floor and gives me a sharp kick to my rib cage. I loose my breath and I see stars as he goes into he kitchen for a few seconds and returns with something shiny in his hand. He crouches down next to my ear and in a low, dangerous voice says "You fucking want to be cut? You'll fucking get it."

I feel a stinging pain on my right arm and blood is running down my wrist and onto the carpet. I dig my nails into floor as he repeats the action, over and over again. "ATTENTION SEEKING SHIT!"

I bite my lower lip to keep from screaming as he kicks my temple and pulls me up by my bleeding wrists' Tears are running down my face as he squeezes my arms and I hear an ugly crack as he pulls me down the hallway and flings me like a rag doll onto the floor again, my head thumping against the corner of the couch.

He staggers to his bedroom and I hear him flop down on his bed, the springs whining loudly. I exhale through my mouth and a sharp and burning pain erupts in my ribs.

I crawl slowly, ever so slowly, to my bedroom, a thick trail of blood following me. I gasp, and wince in doing so, as i look at my swollen and bloody face in the little mirror in the corner of my room.

My temple is busted and my eye is bloody and slowly turning a brilliant shade of purple. Pulling up my shirt I can see bruised ribs and my left wrist is defiantly broken. The cuts that he gave me are mainly on my right arm, a few dozen on my left, all of them deeper than I had ever done to myself, but certainly not enough to kill me.

Kill...me?

The idea seems so lovely now, I don't really have anything left that's worth living for.

I have Dan, I didn't want to leave him, my wonderful angel who would surely perish if I left him in this hell. But he said that he loved me, he said he cared about me. I really felt something special with him, I cared about him with all of my heart.

If he really wants me to be happy, he'll let me do this. I'm ready, I'm not afraid to die.

The Swiss army knife is in the corner in which I had thrown it. Holding my ribs, I bed down and placed it on my desk, then grabbing a pencil and a sheet of blank paper.

_Dan:_

_I'm really sorry, I really am._

_ I love you so much, I don't even think you understand how much I care about you._

_I'm so, so sorry that it has to come down to this._

_If you get this note, I'm probably dead._

_Killing myself is something that was going to happen one way or another, and it probably would of come sooner if it hadn't been for you, so thanks for that._

_The only reason people fear death is because people fear the unknown, it's a perfectly human thing. I may come back in a different form, I may go to heaven, I may even go to Hell, nothing may happen._

_No one really knows, and i guess i'm about to find out._

_It's time to go on another adventure, thanks for making the last bit of my life the best one I've ever been on._

_Love, your best friend, your little kitten and your boyfriend;_

_Phil_

I folded the note in half, my blood leaving an ugly reddish brown line down the crease and opened my knives to the longest and sharpest one.

Without hesitation, I plunged the blade into my forearm and pulled, my veins being ripped open and blood pooling out of my arm.

Black spots formed in my vision and my breathing became so slow, so peaceful. I felt like I was underwater, everything muffled and my eyelids growing heavy, the obnoxious scent of my blood leaving, my battered body growing numb, the pain from bruised ribs and broken wrists vanishing.

I close my eyes and set my head on my arm, falling into a dreamless and eternal sleep.


	15. The End

Just after the sun set, Phil had to go home with his dad. There was something that wasn't right the atmosphere of him and his father from the time that he pulled up, but then I heard what sounded like shouting from his father—though, I might've just not have heard it correctly. When I thought about what was happening, that seemed like the most likely case.

It was a shame that Phil had to go, though. I know that I had known him for less than a week, but it felt like so much more than that. Within the short time that I've known him he had already found his way into my heart, and I was willing to do anything for him. He had brought this light to my life that I couldn't explain, and since I've met him things have just been looking up.

_With your curse he'll be dead before tomorrow. _

_I'm sure that this one will live just as long as you and you two will grow old together! _

I prayed that the second voice would be right this time, but I couldn't know until he was actually dead or until I saw him again. I never really had that pre-amble stomach rush or anything, I've only ever been able to know facts—I _knew_ when Carrie died, but I didn't believe in those small little voices that told me that it happened. I found out a week later, along with Alex. I also _knew_ when Alex died, but still, I ignored it. Finally, I just accepted that Chris died, and I knew when. A Wednesday during Chemistry, and Peej was sitting right next to me when it happened. I didn't want to acknowledge it in case I was wrong, and I didn't want to scare Peej for nothing. Then I found out I was right. Forty-two days later I _knew _that Peej was dead; I didn't need to be told.

I walked up the hill, smiling to myself—I was sure that I would be able to see Phil again tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day from then on. This one would be able to stay, and it was going to be awesome. We were going to have an amazing relationship and be together for years—he would even be the person that I lose my virginity to. I knew it would happen.

When I got home I saw that my mum was already home, and I just ignored her this time. Nothing could ruin my awesome mood from my day with Phil.

I went to my room, smiling while I landed on my bed. It smelled like Phil still. It was wonderful. My mum called up at me saying something about dinner that also involved swearing and just being angry at me. That was normal, and I decided to go down with her and eat in silence. It would be fine.

_Phil is dying as we speak, for all you know. _

_Phil's fine and you're going to be so cute. _

We didn't say anything as we ate. It was really kind of boring, but yet nice to just be around her. However, about fifteen minutes later she got a phone call from her work phone.

"Hello, this is Howell. Yes. Wait, whom? I'll be there as soon as I can be!" She said, and then turned to me. "GOD DAMNIT, DAN! Get your ass in the car, and hurry. Don't question, just move." She yelled.

I immediately went out her car, confused. She came out a few seconds later in scrubs, with her keys in her hand, muttering to herself.

"_This_ is your fault." She said, pulling out of the driveway. I was about to ask, but then I knew.

I didn't have to explain it, I just knew about what Phil had done.

_I told you. Again. It would have been better if you had just never talked to Phil! No, it would have been better if you were dead!_

_No, it's… don't die. You have so much to live for!_

The problem is that I don't have anything to live for. With my grades, any chances of going anywhere are shit, and my mum hates me, and everyone I love dies. There wasn't any bright side. The light of my life was ripped away from me, again. Adrian, now Phil, and everyone else. They're gone, and it's my fault.

_Do it. You know where to get some rope in this hospital. Just go to the park and you can just do it. _

_No…_

My mum parked the car and ran out to the Emergency Room. I followed after, but when I passed the supply closet I stopped.

I was seriously going to end it. It was all going to be over. I wasn't even scared; it just was an unfamiliar feeling in my gut. It felt… empty.

I snuck into the room, grabbing a piece of rope, and then I slipped out. It wasn't hard for me to get to the parking lot to see where the park was. It wasn't far.

Everything that was happening was in some sort of blur, like each second took forever, yet as soon as it had passed it had only been a fraction of a nanosecond. It was weird.

Before I knew it, I was standing in the park. I wondered for a second who would fine me—probably some poor kid that just wanted to play after school or something. Then, all thought shut down completely as I tied the knot in the rope. Adrian had taught me the noose knot when my mum didn't let me join scouts, and it was easy for me. I threw the rope up then climbed up after it.

That is where I stood, and I thought for the final time. I thought about what would happen—no one would mourn my death, but maybe there would be a school assembly. The other students would probably be happy about my death, when it comes straight down to it. One less god-forsaken fag on the planet.

Phil, here I come.

_GO, DAN, YES, HURRY! Thank you, yes, finally. _

…

I climbed up the familiar tree, noose in hand.

_It's about time, this is the moment! You've been waiting for this! _

…

I tied the noose to the branch that I was standing on, sure that it could hold my weight.

_DO IT!_

…

Then, I was falling. There was something serene about what was happening, and as the rope straightened out the voices quieted down to a murmur.

Then, there was silence. Total and complete silence.


	16. Drawing Contest

Let me put this out there, yes, the story is over. No, there will not be a epilogue.

Sorry if I got your hopes up.

Anyways, we need a profile picture. I know that a lot of you guys are awesome drawers, and we were thinking, and we're going to hold a contest-y thing so that you guys can send in pictures for the profile picture! :)

You don't have to send stuff in, but it would really be nice.

So, e-mail me at alices8wonders gmail . com with whatever you want to send in. You can do it of us humans, or of phan, or of what's on our account ("_We are the league of magical unicorns that just so happen to like writing stories about British YouTubers. We live in the a cotton candy fortress in the sky and own dinosaurs for cars."_) or of anything, really.

There are going to be thank-you awards for the humans that send in the pictures, and they will be sent to you when we use your art. We're going to switch pictures on the 1st of every month, so yeah. Thank you for your concern, I love you! 3


	17. Animal's Extra Chapter

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

"Phillip? Phillip, sweetie, can you hear me?"

A hand brushes a lock of hair from my face and cups my cheek. I blink several times, and once my vision adjusts to the white room, I'm looking into the eyes of Dan's mother.

"Oh, sweetie, why would you ever do this to yourself?"

When I don't answer her, she leans over and kisses my cheek, then leaves the room, the door slowly closing behind her.

I sigh and look at the stitches on my arm, so tiny and even with each other. I'm still wearing Dan's light blue shirt, although the sleeve has hastily cut off, the edge of the rip stained with reddish-brown blood.

The plain black and white clock that hangs above the door reads 9:34. Although if Dan were here, he could've told me that in a heartbeat.

Oh, Dan, he'll be so disappointed in me. I cringe at the thought of shock and sadness on his beautiful face. I wonder where he is now, if his mom's here, most likely he won't be.

But then again...

* * *

"Well Mr. Lester, you must already know that you're on suicide watch and you will have to go to therapy, but on the positive side, you won't be living with your father anymore, as Mrs. Howell will become your legal guardian in a few short weeks. Until we meet again, and good luck."

I shook hands with the doctor and followed Dan's mother to her car in the parking lot, relieved to be in the cold air outside. The sky was a deep shade of blue and small stars twinkled against it, the moon making them shine even brighter against the dark.

"Now, where could of Daniel gotten to?" Ms. Howell said, taking out her phone and pressing several buttons before putting the phone to her ear. A look of impatience grew on her face as Dan didn't answer, then she tossed the phone into her bag.

I lean my head against the back seat as Dan's mum starts the car, the hum of the engine becoming a slow and calming lull.

"Oh my god."

Ms. Howell made a sharp turn and my body jerked to the left with the car. The glow from the headlights illuminating the park that Dan and I had come to a few days earlier, everything looking harsh and not right under the fake lighting.

I look around the area to try and figure out what had made Dan's mum stop here. I see her standing a few feet away, her body stiff and unmoving.

"Ms. Howell, what's wrong, are you okay...?"

I look in the direction of her eyes and see... oh god no, please don't let this be real, this is not happening to me.

"DAN!"

He's limp and unmoving, is brown eyes shut and his feet dangling in the night air. I feel myself fall to my knees and everything sounds muffled and cloudy. Tears are falling down my face and before I can blink sirens and red flashing lights are surrounding the park, someone pulls me away from my best friend and into an ambulance, another person puts a blanket on my shoulders.

I can't think or move, I have to keep reminding myself to breathe. I don't know where Ms. Howell is and I don't the names of anyone , so i sit there, my face in my palms, breathing slowly, refusing to believe what's happening.

I already gave up the will to live a long time ago, but this crushes any hope of me ever wanting to be alive again.

Someone's hand is on my shoulder, but I don't look up to see what it is. The hand moves tot he area in between my shoulderblades and moves their fingers in a circular motion, then sits down next to me.

"Phil, why are you crying?"

"Because, you're dead."

"I'm not dead, I'm right here."

"No you're not, I saw you and you were dead. See, you body's right over there, the police are taking your body down from the tree."

"Son, who are you talking to?"

I look over to my right to see a very fat policewoman staring at me, a look of concern on her chubby face.

"I'm talking to Dan, you see, he doesn't believe that he's dead. I'm trying to make him understand that he's gone, will you please tell him?"

She presses her eyebrows together and looks around, then fixates her beady grey eyes on a spot next to me and says "Um, Dan, you're dead. Uh, I think you should leave Phil alone."

"He's over here," I say, pointing to where Dan is standing "Do you need glasses?"

She walks away to the far side of the playground to a doctor and whispers in his ear, pointing to me and shaking her head.

"Dan, why did you kill yourself?"

"I didn't, I'm standing right here, you can see me!"

"No, you're dead."

"No I'm not!"

I continue to argue with Dan until a doctor takes my shoulder and pushes me into another car, trying to talk to me, but I ignore him and try to convince Dan that he's dead. He never gives in, and I just drop the subject altogether.

Wherever this car is going must be out of the city, because I've been sitting here for more than an hour, Dan told me so. According to him it's 11: 57.

I lie down on his lap and he presses his lips to my freshly stitched arms, whispering words of love onto my skin. I reach up to his face and pull him down to kiss me, but just as we break apart the van comes to a halt.

The door behind me opens and someone sticks a needle into my arm. I can't see, I can't see, where is Dan? I call out for him, but no one comes, blackness is taking over my vision. My body stops panicking and I feel very warm.

Somehow I know that I won't die, not today.

* * *

I have officially given up any reason to live.

There's no point anymore.

Death hangs around my small room, everything is cold and sad. I don't eat anymore, my body refuses to take in any form of nourishment. My skin is grey and sagging, my bones practically ripping through my flesh.

Only Dan talks to me, our conversations always interesting, but never long, because he always has to leave. He won't tell me where he's going, but he says that he's going to get me out of here, one way or another.

I don't believe him anymore.

I haven't seen him for a few days, which is strange, he visits me every day. His mother used to as well, but then it turned into every couple of days, once a week, once a month. I told her that he said he missed her, even though he always was rude to her, and he only wanted her approval and he's sorry about what happened to his brother.

She didn't come back for a while.

I lean against the wall of the small room I'm confined to, only a single bed and a light and a mirror that I'm 99% sure is one sided.

I already know that I'm not expected to be here much longer, I can hear their frantic mutters on the other side of the mirror.

The wall opens, apparently it's a door and two men enter, both in single color scrubs, like the ones Dan's mom used to wear. Behind them is another boy, much taller than the doctors, with brown floppy hair and tanned skin...

"Hi, Dan!"

"Hey Phil," he smiles "You're not looking too good. Are you alright?"

"Just a bit tired. I think something serious is going to happen, are you two going to do something to me?" I say, glancing at the two doctors.

They look back at me with sad but calm eyes. The one on the left walks me over to my bed and sits me down. I cross my legs like I did in kindergarten and look at him.

"Phillip-" He begins but I cut him off.

"It's just Phil."

"Phil, you've been here a long time, right?"

"Yes..."

"You've been under close observation for a little over a year now, and the main doctor has treated your case as incurable and overwhelming. We don't have the equipment to help you, and we're very sorry for what you're had to put up against. You're on the verge of death, and we do not want you to suffer any longer."

The other man pulls out a needle filled with a green liquid. I frown at it, but know what is going to happen.

It'll be over soon, nothing bad will happen.

I don't even feel the needle as it enters my arm.

I'm going on an adventure.

The two men leave me alone in the room with Dan, the one who talked to me turns his head and looks at me, then closes the door behind him.

"Hey, Phil."

"Hi Dan."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm not sure," I tell him, looking at my face in the mirror. I look very tired, but not exactly sad. "I feel... light?"

"Light?"

"Like I'm a feather. I that weird?"

"Yes."

I laugh and kiss his cheek, the warmth of his skin filling me with something that felt like liquid sunshine. He joins in my laughter and rests his head on my shoulder.

"Dan?"

He looks up at me with a single brown eye.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"I love you more."

I lean back on the bed and look into the light on the ceiling. Everything is growing brighter and my head is feeling lighter than before. Dan wraps his arms around me and I snuggle into him, not saying anything. I close my eyelids and suddenly feel very cold.

Too cold.

My eyes snap open to see Dan, but there's no one there. I'm all alone. I'm about to die. No,no,no,no,no, this can't be happening.

"Dan?"

Nothing.

Brightness is taking over, I can't breathe, my heart beat is much too fast, everything is spinning, spinning, spinning, too fast, nothing makes sense, spinning.

Stop.


End file.
